Sweet Filth
by MissScarletInTheLibrary
Summary: Dean Ambrose, an amateur porn star, is about to make it big with his first scene at a hot-shot porn studio. Prepared for a hardcore debut, he's thrown off-balance when he meets his scene partner. Ambreigns AU.
1. Chapter 1

Dean readjusted the backpack casually slung over his shoulder as he peered at the sheet of paper pinned to the noticeboard. His eyes ran down the list of names, finally finding his own, mumbling the room number to himself quietly before setting off to find it.

It was hard to believe that he was here. The building was cavernous, the light bulbs hanging overhead providing brief glimpses of illumination at spaced intervals throughout the dark hallways. He had come a long way in a relatively short amount of time. Although he never intended to get into porn – very few people ever _planned_ on getting into the adult movie industry – he had quickly gained a cult following for his amateur work. His videos ratcheted up views on free sites, eventually catching the eye of a hot-shot producer.

…And that's how he now found himself at The Cell. It was the national headquarters for the largest gay porn company in North America, offering everything from sweet romance to hard-core sadomasochism. Dean's previous scenes had all involved elements of the latter, with his fans praising his ability to take pain and run with it, transforming it into a heady rush of adrenaline and ecstasy.

He wasn't sure what to expect from today's shoot, wondering if it would be all that different from the low-budget scenes from his past. They'd probably have all sorts of fancy shit and high quality toys. Might even spring for lunch, if he was lucky.

Taking three steps at a time up the staircase, he found the door marked 'Set 3' and carefully pushed it open. It was a large space featuring raised platforms, metal cages and a large black box that undoubtedly contained a multitude of kinky props. A spark of curiosity ran through him, intrigued at the prospect of losing control amongst all this finery. It felt like an entirely different world and - when he thought back to the budget motel rooms that he was accustomed to shooting in - it most definitely was.

"Can I help you?" A bald man approached him, a pencil tucked behind his ear, a clipboard in his hands as he moved briskly around the set.

"Dean Ambrose, I'm here for the shoot?" He stuck out his hand, narrowing his eyes when the other man ignored it.

"Ambrose, Ambrose…I don't see your name here. Are you sure you're here for the orgy with Randy?"

Dean followed the man's gesture, his eyes landing on a tall, ripped guy. He was wearing skimpy black leather speedos, his thick arms adorned with skull tattoos, his entire body glistening with a copious amount of baby oil.

Scratching the back of his neck, he brought his attention back to the bald man, "Orgy? Uh, I think I'm scheduled for a one-on-one scene."

Sighing deeply, the man spoke into his mouthpiece and awaited a response.

"Okay, you're actually supposed to be at Set 6. Off you run."

Gritting his teeth, Dean nodded in response and stalked out of the room. He thought this place was supposed to be a professional set up. He didn't come here to be treated like a stupid little kid. Taking a deep breath, he worked on getting a handle on his temper before stepping on to Set 6.

It was a far cry from the other room, full of airy light, with a large, comfortable looking bed stationed in front of a huge picture window. Was this really the right place…?

"Dean Ambrose? Good to meet you, I'm Tyler. How was your flight?"

Dean shook the outstretched hand, his brow furrowing as he drank the set in. Had another shoot run over, and they were late in changing the scenery…?

"It was…good. Am I early, or something? Do you need me to come back when you're ready?"

"No, no, not at all, we're just about ready to get started," Tyler assured him, leading him over to a couch and gesturing for him to sit down. "We're very excited to have you here, there's nothing better than bringing in new blood. Especially one with the extensive following that you've garnered."

Dean's lips curled into a small smile, shrugging modestly at the praise. "It's an honour to be here, man. I never even thought it possible that I could end up here some day. I'm looking forward to seeing what we can produce together. I do have a question, though."

"Ask away," Tyler said, nodding encouragingly.

"This set is really nice, but it's not exactly what I was expecting…I'm from a pretty hardcore background and, while nice, those cotton sheets don't look like they were made for blood and spunk."

Tyler laughed out loud, slapping his thigh as he did so. "I love your honesty. No, I guess it's not exactly what people will be expecting from you."

"So…is this a new trend in the BDSM scene or something…?" Dean ventured cautiously, not wanting to offend the other man, but needing to know where he stood.

"Don't worry, you're in the right place. We're really excited to shoot with you, Dean, but we thought we'd try something a little…different."

"Different?" Dean prompted him, still wearing a bewildered expression.

"We thought we'd venture into unchartered territory with you, and try out a new genre. Something…lighter."

Dean's fingers instinctively reached up to run over his collarbone, a nervous habit that he had developed as a child.

"We think it'll be great for your fans to see you do something different. It's particularly exciting because you were specifically requested for this scene."

"I was…?" His mind was so clouded by confusion, he knew he probably sounded like a complete dumbass, echoing everything that was said to him.

"You sure were, by a _very_ influential player in this industry."

"I'm having a little trouble understanding this, Tyler," Dean explained. "I thought I was here to do a hardcore BDSM scene, but that doesn't seem to be the case. You mind spelling it out for me?"

"Dean, you were handpicked as a scene partner by the biggest pornstar in the _world_. He took one look at your work and demanded that we set up a scene for you two."

Dean swallowed with some difficulty. The biggest pornstar in the world…? That could be a subjective statement, but only one person fit that description, in his opinion.

"And, uh, who would that be?"

"Me."

A deep, rich voice interrupted them.

Dean stared at the black boots that had appeared in front of them, his eyes slowly running up the length of the impressive body that housed the distinctive voice.

Holy shit.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Roman Reigns, your scene partner for today."

 _Holy shit._

* * *

 ** _I haven't written in a long time, this is a little experiment. Reviews mean updates._**


	2. Chapter 2

Well, wasn't this something.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, wanting to have a clear view of _the_ Roman Reigns. He had that famous long black hair pulled into a neat bun, giving Dean an unobstructed look at the raw masculine beauty of the man. His grey eyes were even more piercing in person, glinting in amusement as he watched Dean openly ogle him.

Realising that he hadn't said anything since Roman had appeared, Dean cleared his throat and stood up, "It's good to meet you, too."

Dean offered his hand for the third time that day, and received a firm grip in return. Roman's hand was large, warm…reassuring. Dean had always noticed handshakes, and learned a lot from them about the people he encountered. A weak shake was an instant turn-off, it showed a lack of interest, a feeling that quickly became mutual. A strong shake never failed to pique his curiosity, he liked confident individuals, and wanted to know more about them. Luckily for him, he was about to get to know Roman _very_ well.

The two men sized one another up in silence, taking in every line and curve of their features. Dean noted that he had an extra inch in height on Roman, a fact that secretly pleased him. It was stupid, but the man in front of him was so incredibly good looking, a Samoan god made into flesh, that it would be easy to feel threatened.

But Dean didn't.

As Tyler had said, he had a devoted following. They wanted to see him succeed…they wanted him, period. He hadn't ever engaged in self-promotion, preferring to maintain at least a façade of privacy, in spite of his line of work. He wasn't registered on any social media platform, but he didn't need to be. He was compelling onscreen, commanding attention in a way that very few bottoms could in the industry. His videos attracted thousands of views and comments, and he hadn't even signed with a major studio…yet. Dean Ambrose was hot right now, in every sense of the word.

If Roman Reigns wanted to fuck him, then he'd give everything he had…and yeah, he'd probably enjoy the experience too.

"Why don't you two get comfortable and we'll film a little intro segment?" Tyler suggested, beckoning over two cameramen.

"Sounds good," Roman replied, sliding down on to the couch and stretching out.

Dean glanced around for a spot to dump his backpack, then meandered back over to the couch, unsure of what to do next.

"Got a spot for ya right here," Roman smiled, spreading his legs and patting the space in between them.

Dean could feel colour rising in his cheeks. This was so fucking weird. He wasn't accustomed to this friendly shit, sitting down before the shoot to talk about their feelings. They were there to fuck, why couldn't they just get down to business…?

He sat down gingerly, back ramrod straight, attitude written all over his face. He hadn't signed up for this crap. He was a specialist in raw, brutal fucking. Why were they trying to change a winning formula? His fans didn't want to know him as a person, they were just interested in the fantasy.

When the cameras whirred to life, Tyler delivered his spiel, welcoming the site members to the shoot and asking them to introduce themselves.

"I'm Roman Reigns," Roman announced, as if the fans didn't already know every inch of his huge dick from memory, "and this here is Dean Ambrose." His hands landed on Dean's shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles and pulling him backward so that they were snuggled chest to back.

"Hi Dean, welcome to the site," Tyler gushed. "How's it feel to be here?"

"Pretty good," Dean replied, still sporting a sullen expression. He really didn't care for this touchy feely shit.

"Thanks for hooking me up, Tyler," Roman continued, apparently unphased by Dean's surliness.

Dean threw a questioning glance over his shoulder, momentarily dropping his attitude. "Huh?"

"I've been watching you for a while," Roman explained, a hand rising to push through Dean's hair. "When I heard that you'd signed with the studio, I knew I had to have you."

"Have me…?"

"Have my way with you." Roman's voice had dropped a goddamn octave, a bass vibration that Dean felt throughout his body. Now _that_ was the shit he signed up for.

"I'm not surprised," Dean shrugged, his trademark cocky smirk making its first appearance of the day. "I'm in demand. This is prime ass right here, it don't come cheap."

"Damn right," Roman murmured, nuzzling into his neck, his lips sweeping over the exposed skin. "I'm going to take my time and enjoy every bit of it."

"Is it true that you specifically requested a scene with Dean here?" Tyler asked slyly, clearly loving his job as he watched the two men interact.

"Yes, it is," Roman answered honestly, his hands now shamelessly roaming over Dean's chest and thighs.

"And why was that?"

Roman paused in his exploring to deadpan at Tyler, "Do I really have to spell it out for you, man? Have you _seen_ him? He's such a pretty boy."

Dean squirmed involuntarily, his brain hardwired to reject any kind of praise. Life had taught him to shrug off barbed insults, not welcome praise. "I'm _not_ a pretty boy."

"That's what you think," Roman murmured, squeezing Dean's firm thighs, licking the shell of his ear. "All I see is pretty. Pretty, and tough, and completely fuckable."

"Okay, so ya got two outta three," Dean smirked, finally relaxing into Roman's touch, reaching behind him to run a hand through the other man's hair, mussing up the previously neat bun. "Oops…"

"Oh, you're gonna regret that later," Roman promised, his tone light and teasing.

"Whatever." Dean was nonplussed by the threat. The hand stroking him to hardness through his jeans was too damn good for him to care about threats. Roman was big, strong and very physically imposing. He could undoubtedly bring a man a shit ton of pleasure…and do a lot of damage, too. Dean was looking forward to both in equal measure.

"What do you see when you look at Roman, Dean?"

He paused for a moment, turning his head to look into curious grey eyes. "I see some irony in _him_ calling _me_ pretty. But apart from that, I see a walking wet dream. All those muscles, that smooth as shit deep voice, and that big cock. I think I'll have fun with this one."

Roman preened for the camera, feigning modesty. But why would he need modesty? Everything Dean had said was gospel.

"I think I've got myself a brat," Roman laughed, his hand still moving back and forth across Dean's crotch.

"One hundred percent," Tyler agreed. "How do you feel about that? I don't think I've ever seen you take on a brat before."

"Pretty confident. He's acting out for the camera now, but I'm up for the challenge. I don't want him to change, I like that defiance. It makes it all the more fun."

Dean hung on his every word, but tried to be casual about it. He stretched his arms above his head, purposefully allowing his shirt to ride up and expose a line of smooth, golden skin. He knew how to work a camera, and hold a virtual audience in the palm of his hand. This shit was easy. The ego boost that Roman offered was working for him already.

"We'll see if you can back that up, big dog," Dean teased, allowing his dimples to show. "You've got an impressive resume, but you've never met someone quite like me before."

"Don't I know it," Roman smiled, ruffling Dean's hair good-naturedly.

It pleased Dean that the natural chemistry between them was bubbling away nicely. There was nothing worse than having to fake your way through a scene with a lump of meat sporting a chub. Participation was key, but a surprisingly large number of professional porn stars had failed to grasp that concept. Dean had fucked plenty of people he didn't like in his life, but knowing that Roman was a decent enough guy did wonders for his erection. It was effortless so far. His acting chops wouldn't need to stretch too far in this scene. It would all be real.

"So, what you got planned for me?" He inquired, eyeing up the comfortable setting once more.

"Something a little different…" Roman trailed off. "But you probably already figured that out."

"This is for our sensual site," Tyler explained. "Lots of body contact, hot fucking, and showing off your personalities and the connection between you."

"…come again?" Dean's mouth dropped open.

"It's for Boyfriends dot com, are you familiar with it?"

"In theory…" Fuck. What genius was responsible for that decision? Dean was hardcore, raw, unpredictable. He fucked strangers in cheap motel rooms for internet notoriety and the hope of getting a shot at the big leagues. Who had decided that he was now the poster boy for couples sex…?

"It'll be fun," Roman chimed in, starting up that nuzzling shit again.

Dean found himself in a predicament.

Here he was, with the world's biggest porn star wrapped around him, promising him the ride of his life (both literally and figuratively), and doubts were now creeping into his mind. He'd never been in a stable relationship. Fuck, he'd never even had what would be classified as a normal, functioning relationship. His longest partnership had been with himself. He got _himself_ through shit.

His hand crept up to tap out a frenetic rhythm on his collarbone, without his even realising it.

He'd bluffed his way through a lot of shit before, but this was on a whole new level.

Intimacy and romance made him retch….but worse, it made him uncomfortable. He wasn't meant to be the pretty bottom with the loving, hung-like-a-horse top. That was for other dudes. Guys who got into porn on a whim, secure in the knowledge that their trust funds would always be waiting for them, no matter what happened. Dean could only dream of such security. He needed this gig…but he also needed to perform in loving erotica about as much as he needed a hole in the head.

Whips, wax, restraints, gags, cock cages...those he could handle.

What he could not handle was Roman fucking Reigns giving him puppy dog eyes and whispering sweet nothings into his ear while he dicked him. The truth was, it could do serious damage to his career. His fans loved him for his devil may care attitude and willingness to put his body on the line. Those same fuckers would hardly be interested in some soft core shit.

Delving deeper, Dean acknowledged another truth.

He was scared.

If Roman kept up the rubbing and kissing and gentle murmuring, then he could fall for it. He could fool himself into believing, even just for a brief period of time, that someone like Roman Reigns could be in to him. Could see him as more than just a casual fuck or a work colleague. Could want to spend time with him, hang out together, and do whatever it was that well-adjusted adults did when they weren't humping like bunnies.

It was a risk he couldn't take…but he also couldn't turn down the pay day on offer.

What the fuck was he going to do…?

"Alright, I think it's time you two hunks got started!" Tyler announced, clapping his hands together and standing up. "I think our members are in for a real treat with you two."

"After you," Roman said, gesturing for Dean to stand. He took hold of his hand and led Dean to the bed, pulling him close. "Let's make it memorable, pretty boy."

* * *

 **A/N: Wow, you more than delivered with the reviews. Thanks for taking the time to read and leave comments on this story! It's fantastic to get feedback and hear what you think - keep it up! Reviews mean updates!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Aaaand, we're filming," Tyler murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean was uncomfortably aware of the silence that had descended on the studio. The faint hum of the cameras was the only thing that he could hear, apart from the frantic thump of his heartbeat. He wasn't this guy – a newbie panicking at the thought of fucking on film. He was brave and self-assured and out there. He could do anything, handle anything, be whatever the situation needed him to be at any given moment.

But right now? He felt completely out of his depth. He'd been double dicked for god's sake – why was the thought of intimacy enough to make him fall apart?

Roman was watching him intently, his eyes roaming over his face and body, drinking him in. He leaned in, tilting Dean's chin up with an encouraging index finger. Their mouths met tentatively, a gentle caress of lips that made Dean's stomach feel funny. Roman slipped a finger into each belt loop, coaxing Dean closer. His thumbs slid beneath the hem of Dean's shirt, barely there touches stroking the indents of Dean's hips. A shiver coursed down Dean's spine, a warm and altogether unfamiliar set of sensations overwhelming his entire body.

Despite his size and strength, Roman was being a complete gentleman. There was something…reverential in his touches, the way he looked at Dean and held him so carefully. Roman continued to explore, his arms circling Dean's tiny waist, pulling their bodies flush up against one another.

Damn, Roman felt good. Like, _really_ good. He threw off heat like a furnace, so warm and solid. Dean's hands instinctively gripped on to his biceps, giving them a quick squeeze. He had to swallow down a moan. This man was muscled perfection. Men didn't look like Roman in amateur porn. He'd fucked some really shady dudes for very little money in the past. To think that they were paying him serious bucks for taking Roman's gorgeous cock, well, he was pretty much living the American dream.

The soft little kisses continued, with Roman licking into Dean's mouth, their tongues flicking together playfully. It almost made Dean forget about what was expected of him…almost.

He tensed up again, his muscles seizing in panic. Fuck, this had never happened before. He felt exposed and vulnerable – sensations that he couldn't handle. He had been through a lot in his life, but had refined the art of appearing to never give a fuck. He was his own best friend, and could take on any situation because he believed in his own abilities, almost to a fault. This situation was so new, so out of his comfort zone. The cameras and having an audience of random dudes in the room would normally hit a few of his kinks, but not this time. He didn't want them to see _him_ , he wasn't prepared to show them that. He wanted them to see Dean Ambrose – Stud. The guy who had signed the contract, rocked up to bang on camera and collect the hefty cheque. The boundary was an important distinction, and one that he intended to hold on to.

Tilting his head to one side, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing as Roman slowly kissed up and down the length of his neck. His body was reacting in the right way, his nipples hardening and feeling super fucking sensitive when they brushed against the material of his shirt. His dick was showing a keen interest in the man before him, growing thick and long in his pants.

The nagging little voice in his head was starting to piss him off. It was reminding him of his discomfort, warning him to voice his concerns. He wasn't here to _voice concerns_ , he was here to bend over and take it. Simple. Gritting his teeth, he reached up to tug on Roman's hair, pleased when he heard a sexy little growl in response.

"How you doing there?"

The whispered question came as a surprise.

Dean's eyes popped open, before trying to recover quickly when he caught sight of the little red light on one of the cameras.

"Doing pretty great, big dog," he murmured back, thrusting his hips forward to rub their crotches together.

"You sure? Because your body's telling me a whole other story."

Did Roman sound… _worried_ about him?

"Nah, that's just me. You'll learn quick enough."

Roman didn't reply, taking time to explore the muscled lines of Dean's back instead. Dean was a little freaked out. A scene partner had never inquired about his wellbeing before. The dudes he had fucked in the past were always more preoccupied with getting their rocks off. Their partners' enjoyment of the shoot was the very last thing on their mind. Dean didn't care too much about it, choosing not to take it personally. They were selfish amateurs, while he was a man with goals to pursue. He had always taken it like a champ and added another couple followers to his bag, before taking the cash and moving on. He took good care of himself whenever he needed it, and certainly didn't rely on anyone else for his pleasure.

His eyes drifted closed again, as he focused entirely on Roman. The man was a walking wet dream, if he blocked out everything else, then this scene would go swimmingly. It was his job to please Roman, and in turn, please the site's members. If he succeeded, then they'd invite him back, offer him more money, and he could start to tick a few items off of his bucket list.

The loss of Roman's warmth was unexpected and startling. Dean's eyes blinked open slowly, not comprehending the scene in front of him. Roman's head hung low, one hand on his hip, the other pushing his hair back. He looked pensive. He didn't look in the least bit turned on anymore.

That realisation sucker-punched Dean right in the gut. He thought he had this, Roman had seemed so into him – hadn't he been the one to engineer this whole thing? What was up with him now?

"Cut."

The word was said quietly, but firmly.

Another sucker punch.

"Something wrong, Roman?" Tyler stepped forward, a crease marring his brow, clutching his clipboard tightly to his chest.

"I don't want this."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flicking over to watch Roman. What kind of fucker was he? Hadn't he set this whole thing up? Talking about how he thought Dean was _pretty_? Was professional porn not all that different from the bullshit that he had experienced in the amateur world? It seemed that he would always encounter assholes, no matter the pay-grade.

Dean shook his head and walked over to his backpack, snatching it up and making his way toward the exit.

The sound of someone running to catch up with him barely registered.

But the accompanying hand on his shoulder, turning him around, _did_ register.

Roman.

Dean tried to look blasé, willing his eyes to appear disinterested and blank.

"Where are you going?" Roman asked, looking like a wounded puppy.

"Elsewhere," Dean shrugged. "If you don't want me, I'm not gonna force you. Besides, you're Roman Reigns. You can do _whatever_ – or _whoever_ – you want."

"I never said I don't want you," Roman said firmly, a slight tick jacking his jaw tight. "I've wanted you for a very long time, and now that I'm gonna have you, I'm not going to walk away. But this doesn't feel right. I want to try something different."

"I thought this _was_ different," Dean replied, gesturing around at the natural light filling the cosy space.

"Some might say that," Roman remarked wryly, almost as if he was speaking to himself. "Follow me, Tyler!"

Taking hold of Dean's hand, he led him outside, down a staircase, and on to another set.

"Much better," Roman murmured, glancing over his shoulder to give Dean a _look_. One that went right to his dick, full of a hunger that was far more primal and ravenous and hella up his alley.

"Roman? What's going on?" Tyler was flush faced and breathless, obviously freaked out by his star's behaviour.

"If you're gonna hand Dean Ambrose to me on a plate, I'm gonna take my time and really enjoy him." Roman's voice had changed noticeably, a reverberating bass that brooked no arguments. He looked darker, the sweet eyes replaced by that hunger reserved just for Dean. In a word, he was dominant. "We're gonna use this set."

"Set 3…?" Tyler's voice had pitched up a few octaves, stress evident on his face. "Isn't Randy shooting here today?"

"The orgy was a little…overwhelming for Randy," the set-hand from earlier spoke up, rolling his eyes as he walked by them. "He couldn't keep his pecker up if his life depended on it. There was premature spunk _everywhere_. You guys are welcome to the set, it's free for the rest of the day. Maybe it'll be more productive for you."

"We're not doing softcore," Roman announced, taking Dean's backpack from him and handing it to another set-hand. "We're gonna meet somewhere in the middle, and Dean here is gonna moan nice and loud for me."

He couldn't resist the bait, crossing his arms and pursing his lips, "You're talking a big game. You better not disappoint me. Do you even know your way around a BDSM set…?"

Something ignited in Roman's eyes, a promise that Dean had no doubt he would follow through on. _Hell yes_.

"Get the toys," Roman ordered, his gaze never leaving Dean. "Pretty boy wants my A-game, and he'll get it."

The bratty submissive in Dean was dancing gleefully, parading around, gloating about the big, bad Dom that he'd snagged.

"Take off your shirt."

Dean quirked an eyebrow, but decided to choose his battles wisely. Roman had said that he liked the challenge of a brat, and he'd give it to him, but he was also smart enough to play along if it meant receiving some mind-blowing pleasure.

He slowly edged his shirt up, revealing the tanned, lean expanse of his torso. He was a big guy, but built with some interesting dimensions – namely, his miniscule waist. His fans swooned over it, loving the contrast with his broad shoulders, jacked arms and long legs. Letting his shirt slide to the floor, he crossed his arms again, drawing attention to the bulge of his own biceps.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Dean questioned, as the crew hurried to prepare the set.

Roman took his sweet time before responding, walking around Dean, taking a good, long look at him.

"Lots of things," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Dean from behind. "Paddles, rope, spanking, and you begging for my cock."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat, forcing him to gulp audibly. "I didn't think that stuff was your sort of thing. I've never seen you do it."

"Very few people have," came the reply, spoken directly into his ear. "What happens in my private life never makes it on to film. But I'm willing to let you in on the secret."

* * *

 **A/N: You're all unbelievably kind and cool. I love reading your reviews. I got a review for the last chapter that was very presumptuous, and read like someone venting all of their Ambreigns frustrations in my review box (for reasons unknown), so maybe keep that for the forums instead. If you would like to review my actual story, I'd love to hear from you. As always, reviews mean updates!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dom/sub dynamics and BDSM ahead.**

* * *

Dean quickly discovered that Roman was an _extremely_ tactile man. He kept his hands on him as the crew set up, while calling out his preferences for camera angles and lighting. By the time the set was ready, Dean was inwardly purring with pleasure. He felt sleepy and aroused – all thanks to Roman massaging his scalp, stroking his neck and squeezing his pecs.

Dean's attitude had died down in the meantime, but he knew that it would soon rear up again. It was too much fun to sass Roman, and the hunger that was evident in Roman's eyes promised some really fucking _fun_ consequences if he kept pushing him.

Which Dean would do.

Obviously.

"How are you feeling now?"

The deep rumble of Roman's voice vibrated through Dean's back when he spoke. It was…kinda reassuring.

"Better," Dean replied quietly. Despite running his mouth ninety percent of his life, he was a man of few words when it came to emotions and feelings. They weren't really his thing. He hoped that his tone and body language conveyed his gratitude to Roman for saving the scene…and any potential embarrassment.

"I want you to listen to me real good," Roman continued, his words intended for Dean alone, the two of them entangled, blanking out the commotion around them. "If you're not completely comfortable with what we're doing, then you _will_ use your safe word. I won't accept any bullshit, I'm dead serious about this. If for _any_ reason you're not happy, you say it and we'll stop and reassess. Understood?"

Dean nodded, taken in by Roman's firm tone. This guy knew his shit.

"Say it."

"Understood, man. If you're not floating my boat, I'll let you know."

He could practically _feel_ Roman's smirk behind him. "Oh, I _know_ I can float your boat, pretty boy. You just let me worry about that. But you've got to be honest with me and communicate how you're feeling, that's all I ask."

"And you'll get it," Dean confirmed, liking this stud more and more with every word spoken.

"Good." Roman rewarded him with a press of his lips to Dean's neck, sweeping the plump flesh back and forth slowly, causing Dean's thighs to twitch ever so slightly. It was his _spot_ , and the fucker had already found it.

"Mr. Reigns?" A young man approached them cautiously, looking scared beyond words. "Um, what toys would you like to use in this scene?"

Roman hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingertips on Dean's hipbones.

"A Neon Wand?" The assistant suggested, working up a little courage.

"Nah, we'll make our own sparks fly," Roman chuckled to himself. "I want some rope, the black stuff. It'll look real nice tightly bound against this boy's skin. We'll need plenty of lube too. My favourite's in the red bottle."

"Yes sir," the assistant nodded, noting it all down. "What about a gag? Will you need one of those?"

"No, I want to hear all the nice sounds he's gonna make," Roman stated, squeezing Dean tighter. "Besides, I've got a pretty effective gag in my pants."

The assistant gaped at him, before catching himself and skittering away in a hurry.

"I thought you were just here to torture me," Dean drawled. "Not the kid fresh out of college. Are you a sadist in every aspect of your life?"

"I'm not a sadist, pretty boy," Roman murmured, his hands still roaming over Dean's body. "I specialise in seduction. I bring you on a sensory journey, jacking up your pleasure to the max, and then I'm there to fuck you when the moment's just right. They're two completely different things."

"Whatever you say, big dog," Dean snorted as he watched the assistant sort through an assortment of whips and floggers.

"Do I need to change or something?" Dean asked, gesturing to his jeans.

"No, you wear those too well. Keep them on…for now."

"And what are _you_ gonna wear…?"

"Oh, you'll see."

* * *

Bright lights in a large room, a dark wooden column, and a thick erection.

So began Dean's first professional porn scene. The room was warm, unlike the seedy motel rooms he had filmed in previously. He felt comfortable, despite the black rope binding his upper body to the beam in beautifully intricate patterns. His hands had been secured behind his back, leaving him totally at Roman's mercy. The process of being tied up had caused all of the blood in his body to rush south, with Roman gently but firmly wrapping him up like a gift, dropping soft kisses on bare skin. It was unlike any other shoot that Dean had participated in, for many reasons.

"Are you ready to go, Mr. Reigns?" The young assistant called out.

"Yes."

Dean was distracted, staring at his chest, liking the way the rope snugly hugged his pectoral muscles. He kept his focus there, until he heard somebody approach him, a throat being cleared loudly.

His eyes slid over to catch sight of a pair of black boots. Following the long, thickly-muscled legs upward, he saw that Roman was wearing black leather pants. Dean felt his mouth water, his erection pulsing with _need_ in his own pants. A vast expanse of smooth, bare skin was revealed as his gaze roamed further upward. Roman's torso was defined, yet still retained the delicious thickness of his Samoan heritage. He was shirtless, wearing only a black leather harness.

"H-hi," Dean bumbled, openly staring.

"Hi," Roman smiled, reaching out to fondly ruffle the other man's hair. "Like what you see?"

"You already know the answer to that," Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and purposefully looking away. He wondered if anyone had ever died from a painfully huge erection. That would certainly snag interest and drive up subscriptions to the site.

"Maybe, but I like to hear you say it," Roman teased. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"And you'll tell me if you're not fully comfortable, right?"

Dean huffed out a petulant sigh, "Yes, _Dad_. I told you that already."

Roman quirked an eyebrow, "Calling me Daddy already? It's like you were made for me."

Dean clamped his mouth shut, ducking his head in an effort to hide the colour rising in his cheeks.

Roman ducked his own head, catching Dean's eye and tipping his chin upward. "No hiding from me. This will be intense, but remember that I'm in it with you. I'm going to make you feel good. You're safe with me, Dean."

"Okay," Dean nodded, touched that Roman was thoughtful enough to want to reassure him. "Then let's do it."

"Time to play," Roman announced to the director, who briskly counted them in.

Dean jerked roughly in his restraints, scowling at Roman, a defiant look in his eyes.

"Somebody's got a little attitude," Roman commented, stretching up to rest his hand on the beam above Dean's head, his eyes running over Dean's bound form, cataloguing every inch of skin.

"Fuck you," Dean spit out, still struggling to free himself.

"And such a potty mouth," Roman said, sounding amused, as if he found Dean's sassing to be endearing. "Not to mention a _pretty_ mouth. You shouldn't waste it on talking smack. It could be put to _much_ better use."

"Let me guess – sucking your dick, right?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"You brought it up, not me," Roman shrugged. "So, let me see if I've got this straight – you've got a tight body, a pretty mouth, beautiful eyes, and an insanely hard cock."

Dean glanced down at the outline bulging through his pants. There was no point in arguing that one, he wasn't an outright liar.

"I can make you feel amazing," Roman promised, slowly dragging a finger down Dean's stomach, grinning when he saw the muscles tighten as his sub sucked in a deep breath. "Would you like to feel amazing, Dean?"

The mention of his name added to the sensuality of the moment. He wanted Roman so damn badly. He had watched his videos for years, and rubbed one out to the masculine beauty and erotic power of the man in front of him countless times. He looked so fucking gorgeous, his eyes glinting, enjoying their back and forth. The way he watched him, Dean knew that he had an experienced Dom on his hands. Roman didn't miss a thing.

"Well, that's a stupid question," Dean muttered, wriggling again, tugging at the ropes around his wrists, as if it would make a difference. "My dick is hard. You're standing there covered in baby oil and smelling like sex, it doesn't take a genius to work that one out."

Roman's laugh was deep and genuine, "You raise some valid points. So, let me have you. Will you give yourself up to me, Dean?"

The silence that followed was intended to put the audience on edge, as if there was ever any doubt as to what his answer would be. Dean took the time to take a mental inventory of the sensory experience at play – his dick was throbbing, his body calm and content in the restraints, the firm hold of the rope making him feel secure. He didn't ever discuss his submissive tendencies, because very few people were brave enough to ask the brash man about his preferences, which were seemingly at odds with his outspoken manner. In that moment, he knew that he was in the right place. Roman would take care of him, get him off, and ensure the biggest payday of his career thus far.

"Yeah, I will…but you better make it worth my while," he snapped out.

"You don't have anything to worry about, pretty boy," Roman murmured, easing in closer, making Dean look up at him. "You can drop the tough guy act, forget about trying to top from the bottom, and just do exactly as I say."

Dean's tummy flipped, the words inciting a desperate excitement that he would never willingly show.

Before he could think of any smart comebacks, Roman leaned in to take his mouth, kissing him gently, but with that underlying firmness that Dean was quickly coming to associate with him. His thick tongue thoroughly explored Dean's mouth, taking his time, determined to make his sub squirm and want more, always more.

Dean instinctively wanted to touch him, to tug on that harness, feel all of those muscles and grind his aching cock against one of those thighs. He grunted out his frustration at still finding himself immobilised.

"It's part of the challenge," Roman whispered, palming Dean's chest, following the trail of rope with his hands. "You have to let go and give yourself to me. The ropes are a reminder that you're safe, and under my control. The only thing you're battling right now is your mind."

Dean would normally roll his eyes at psychobabble, but Roman was speaking the truth. He always had to put up a fight, to never give in too easily. Normally, a guy would wrestle him to the bed and stick it in, he wasn't accustomed to having to wait too long. The other schlongs that he'd fucked didn't have the time or brain cells to understand the underlying dynamics.

Roman returned his attention to Dean's nipples, staying close as he pinched them, all the while watching Dean's face intently. A hiss of pain was followed by a dreamy glaze momentarily drifting across his eyes. Roman increased the pressure, smiling when Dean attempted to arch into the touch, cursing loudly when he realised that he couldn't.

"Fuck shit FUCK!"

"Good boy, let me hear everything," Roman encouraged, bending down to suck on the sensitive nubs.

Dean squirmed, his chest rising and falling harshly. Roman caught the button of Dean's jeans, slowly easing them down his hips, letting his dick spring free. Somehow, probably using some Samoan sex magic, his hand was lubed when he _finally_ took hold of Dean's cock.

A long, low moan fell out of Dean's mouth, testifying to his need to be touched.

Roman stroked him achingly slowly, switching nipples, working Dean good and hard. "Tell me how you feel," the order was whispered against a wet, rosy bud.

Dean heard the command, but his brain couldn't quite compute its meaning. He took a moment to slow his breathing, fighting his way out of the fog that had descended over his mind.

"Good," he gasped out. "Need more."

"Good boy," the Dom murmured approvingly, standing up and kissing along the length of his sub's exposed neck, hushing the desperate whimpers as his hand continued its torturous work.

" _More_ ," Dean whined.

…All that good shit stopped suddenly.

"The fuck? Why'd you stop?" Dean demanded, blinking rapidly and frowning at Roman.

"Because we're doing things _my_ way," the older man reminded him, sauntering over to the toy box and pulling out a flogger. "Kiss it."

"Kiss my ass," Dean spat out, shooting a death glare.

"Gladly, but we're not quite there yet." Roman gathered the strips of material and held them up to Dean's mouth, looking at him expectantly. "Kiss it."

Wearing the expression of a cranky three-year-old, Dean did as he was told.

"I've given you pleasure, but I wouldn't be doing right by you if I didn't give you pain too. I know how you work, Dean. I know what you like. I'm going to give you what you need."

"Oh gee, than- MOTHERFUCKER!"

The smart comment was cut short when the flogger landed on his exposed ass, his hips thrusting forward at the first stinging kiss of leather.

"Count them out," Roman ordered, moving behind him and flicking his wrist again.

"Two, you fucker!"

Roman continued to find the smooth skin of Dean's plump ass, colouring it a beautifully rosy hue, enjoying every moan, groan and death threat that he dragged out of Dean. Although his upper body was restrained, Dean was lewdly fucking the air, trying to catch even the slightest bit of friction, but inevitably failing to do so.

"Twenty!"

Roman moved in close, wrapping an arm around Dean from behind, lightly dragging the flogger over the abused skin. Dean gasped and shuddered, his head lolling back to rest on Roman's shoulder.

"How do you feel?"

"Like some sadist asshole just flogged the shit out of my ass. And he _wasn't even gentle_ about it."

"I can be gentle," Roman said confidently. "But that's not what you want from me. You want me to ravage you, and I'm doing a pretty stellar job, if I say so myself."

"…Fuck you."

"You say the sweetest things, pretty boy. That's how I _know_ I'm hitting the spot."

In a surprisingly sweet move, Roman crouched down to kiss at the sensitive flesh of Dean's ass, holding him in place by his tiny waist, once again reminding Dean that he was under Roman's control. The soft lips were heavenly on his ass, providing just the right mix of a pleasurable pain.

Dean's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets when he felt something wet and warm slide between his ass cheeks. "Oh, fuck yeah….that's it. Right there…"

Roman hummed as he circled Dean's hole, a well-lubed hand finding his cock again and working it roughly this time. Roman's only regret was that he couldn't see Dean's face right then, or witness the delicious way his body undulated when he wanted to get off so damn badly.

When he pushed his tongue through the resistant muscle, the tell-tale signs of an orgasm were right there. As he started to tongue fuck Dean, he dropped his hand, leaving the thick erection bouncing.

"I hate you!" The words were hissed out through clenched teeth, but lost their edge when a slutty moan soon followed.

Roman dug his nails into the backs of Dean's thighs, dragging down and raising goosebumps in their wake. His tongue pushed inside of Dean, swirling and curling and driving the younger man insane.

Catching his breath, Roman slapped Dean's ass, pleased by the pained yelp that it earned.

"You don't hate me. I'm the only one who can give you what you need, what you _crave_. And I've been very generous so far. I think it's time you started to do some work."

With deft hands, Roman loosened the restraints that bound Dean to the beam until he could slide down to his knees, his body still bearing the Shibari ropework, his hands still secured behind his back.

He pulled Dean closer by the hair, pushing his face into his crotch. Dean glared up at him, feigning dislike at this point, but Roman wasn't fooled. He caught the way Dean rubbed his cheek against the leather of his pants, nuzzling the outline of his own hard cock, and the breathy little sigh that only a truly happy submissive could emit.

"Since you're a little…tied up right now, I'll help you out," Roman chuckled, undoing his belt and placing the zipper between Dean's teeth. "Now get to work, boy."

Dean put all of his concentration into dragging down the zipper, nudging the leather back with his head and pulling out Roman's dick with his more than willing mouth. He wanted a taste so badly, wanted to show Roman that he was a good boy, one who would do a great job to make him feel fucking awesome.

He sucked the head fully into his mouth, looking up to catch Roman's reaction. The intense steel gaze that met his would have been breath-taking…if Roman's massive cock wasn't already doing a pretty good job of stealing Dean's breath. Maintaining eye contact, he took the entire length down his throat, demonstrating his toe-curling ability to suck dick. The feral growl that this produced gave him a deep sense of satisfaction, adding to the warm feeling developing in the pit of his stomach.

"You look so fucking good with my dick in your mouth," Roman praised. "Working so hard to make me feel good, on your knees like a good boy."

Dean closed his eyes and focused on pulling more hot sounds, and even better words, from the man above him. This was some good shit, the kind of shit that he knew would end in him covered in spunk. The _best_ kind of shit. Roman knew exactly what to do and say to hit all of Dean's kinky spots. He felt so alive as he knelt on the hard ground, the irritation of the concrete floor on his skin only adding to his arousal. He was a pain slut, but would never let anybody say it out loud, least of all himself.

He was content with a dick in his mouth and a more than capable Dom above him. That fog was back again, enshrouding his mind, lowering his defences. He just wanted to please Roman. That was all that mattered.

"Fuck the air as I fuck your mouth," Roman's words broke through his reverie, making his dick twitch. "That's it, grind it out, show me how much you need to come."

Dean's hips worked awkwardly, thrusting forward as Roman's hands pressed up against the back of his head, holding him firmly in place. He started off slowly, easing in and out of the warm, slippery crevice, before working up to a quicker and rougher pace. Little bites of pain pricked their way across Dean's scalp when his hair was tugged on. His skin was burning, the need to come overpowering all reason and transforming him into his basest self.

Being owned like this, being used for Roman's pleasure had his cock swelling even further, his heart pounding in his chest, his hips pistoning back and forth. He was beyond the point of caring about dignity or putting up a fight, he wanted to give Roman the greatest pleasure he could.

Harsh tugs on his hair made him open his eyes, as Roman caught him under his arms and dragged him to his feet.

"Bend over," the Dom gritted out. "I'm gonna come on this pretty ass."

Dean obeyed instantly, blissfully entranced, and fully embracing the scene. He glanced over his shoulder at just the right moment to see Roman throw his head back and growl ferociously, his load painting Dean's already reddened ass a new shade entirely. He kept on coming, spurts of his orgasm landing halfway up Dean's back, mixing with the perspiration already there.

Dean's own cock still stood to attention between his legs, a startling red combined with the purple veins protruding throughout its length making it a captivating sight.

"You wanna come, pretty boy?"

Dean nodded his assent, not trusting himself to be able to form words at that point.

"Back on your knees," Roman instructed, helping him slide back down. "Give me that load, Dean. Come for me."

He didn't need too much encouragement, as Roman stroked him to completion, endless streams of cum pumping out of him. If Roman hadn't been there to steady him, he would have fallen flat on his face, his body suddenly drained and weak as adrenaline deserted him.

"Such a fucking good boy," Roman's ever present soothing tone kept him tethered to the moment. "Wearing my cum so well, giving me everything that I asked for. You just have to do one more thing."

Dean cracked open one eye, barely able to lift his head.

"Good boys clean up after themselves," Roman said, gesturing to the pool of cum on his boot.

Dean's dick jumped again, making him wonder how it even had the energy to do so after blowing its load. He bent down, his cum-covered ass sticking up in the air for Roman to admire, as he lapped up the fruits of his orgasm.

Roman was right.

He _was_ a good boy.

"Aaaaaaand, cut!"

Dean was harshly brought back to reality, blinking against the lights that suddenly seemed much brighter than before. His entire body ached, but for different reasons this time. Roman worked to remove his binding, gently rubbing his skin back to life, encouraging circulation. He settled Dean into a sitting position, wrapped him in a blanket and coaxed him to drink from the bottle of water that he held against his lips.

He was the ultimate professional, the ultimate Dom tending to a sub as they came down from the high.

"How was it for you? You doing okay?" His eyes were concerned as he searched Dean's baby blues.

"It wasn't half bad," Dean smirked, his lids heavy, his words almost sounding slurred as he forced his way out of sub-space.

"I enjoyed it too, babe," Roman smiled, once again ruffling Dean's blond curls.

As Dean slowly acclimated to the real world again, he couldn't help but acknowledge the thought niggling in the back of his mind. If Roman found him to be so _pretty_ , and enjoyed himself so much…then why hadn't he fucked him?

* * *

 **I hope it was worth the wait! I wanted to give you an Ambreigns gift on the day of their last match together for a while.**

 **Please let me know what you thought, I worked hard to churn out almost four thousand words this afternoon. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Using strength that he did not think he had left, Dean dressed and gathered his belongings in silence, feeling sluggish. In spite of his fatigue, his mind insisted on repeating the same question over and over again – why hadn't Roman fucked him?

It shouldn't matter to him – he got paid either way, and had in fact earned a large chunk of change for a simple blow job. He should have been celebrating his successful mainstream debut, but instead he was preoccupied with bullshit worries. Gulping down a bottle of water, he ran a hand through his sex hair and blew out a deep breath. Well, that was that.

The money would be in his account by the end of the day – an unusual, but welcome occurrence – so now he could go grab some food and enjoy the luxury of the hotel room that the company had put him up in. His flight was booked for late afternoon the next day, offering him a little free time to explore San Francisco before heading home.

The crew were already clearing up for the day, eager to head to a local bar and shoot the breeze. Roman had executive producer credit on his movies, meaning that he had disappeared to…do whatever that entailed.

Shrugging to himself, Dean headed out. He was at the front door of the building when he heard his name being called. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Tyler jogging after him.

"Dean, wait up! Where are you going?"

"Back to the hotel," Dean replied. "I wanna get cleaned up and eat."

"You have to come to the party," Tyler said, clearly not picking up on Dean's desire to be alone with his thoughts.

"Party…?"

"Roman's party," Tyler explained. "The whole company is going, it'll be a blast. You should come, get to know other performers, meet some of the directors we work with."

That sounded like the very last thing Dean wanted to do, but logic and his determination to see more sizeable paycheques in his future won out.

"Just text me the time and place and I'll be there," he said, saluting and sauntering out into the warm night air.

* * *

Having sated his appetite, showered and indulged in a quick nap, Dean was feeling a lot more human as he rode the bus to Roman's place. He could have splurged on a taxi, but he wasn't about to let one payday go to his head. He knew that he didn't have any real reason to feel aggrieved about the scene earlier – it had been erotic as hell and more than a little flattering that Roman has specifically requested him for it. It would lead to other work, and hopefully ensure that his days of cheap labour were behind him for good.

Besides, Roman was missing out on the best ass of his life. He might think that he was too good to fuck somebody like Dean, but it was his loss. Dean knew his own value, and fuck anybody who didn't acknowledge it.

The bus pulled up to the kerb on a leafy residential street, tall hedges separating each individual property from prying eyes. Dean ambled along the path, double checking the address on his phone, before stopping in front of a large electric gate. He pressed the buzzer on an intercom set into a pillar, thinking that Roman must be raking in serious dough to afford a nice place like this. The fucker really _did_ think he was above everyone else, living in the equivalent of an ivory tower in a snooty ass neighbourhood.

"Yes?" A voice emanated from the intercom.

"I'm Dean Ambrose, I'm here for the party."

"One moment, please. Good job Tyler, he made it!"

Dean frowned, wondering if the person on the other end realised that he could hear every word. Before he could say anything, the gate started to shift open, revealing a lush garden and beautifully landscaped courtyard that led to the front door. Dean did his best to ignore all of the trappings of wealth, preferring to troop inside, get his face out there, and duck out when he had had enough.

A large table was set up by the front door, bearing black cloth sacks. A smiling woman handed it to him, and wished him a pleasant evening. Dean nodded in response, taking the offered bag with a healthy degree of reluctance. He didn't believe in getting something for nothing – experience had taught him that people usually expected something in return.

He meandered further into the house, snagging a cold bottle of beer from one of the ice buckets scattered on large tables throughout. Taking a deep glug, he sighed and felt his body start to relax, against his own better judgement. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. It could be exactly what he needed, to blow off some steam and forget all the weird shit that hung in a fog around his head.

Leaning against the wall, he tugged open the bag and rummaged around inside. Designer condoms, flavoured lube, some massage oils. All the fancy shit that his previous employers had never bothered with, basically. Dean wasn't dumb, he always insisted that his onscreen partners glove up, especially knowing how skeevy some of the dudes lurking around the amateur scene could be. If nothing else, he now had some extra rubbers on hand whenever he needed them.

Digging further, his hand grasped something firm. Pulling it out, he found himself holding a lifelike replica of Roman's dick. The packaging proudly proclaimed that he could now experience what it felt like to get fucked by the sexiest porn star in the world. Dean stared at it grimly for a few seconds before tossing it back in and casually slinging the sack over his shoulder.

His mood had been on the up, before he felt himself relegated to the world of wannabes again in one fell swoop. By a fucking _dildo_ , no less.

Roman Reigns didn't believe in banging those he considered to be lesser than himself, but he sure as hell didn't seem to mind the thought of them desperately fucking themselves on a replica of his cock. Probably thought he was providing some sort of charitable service. Fuck him.

Downing the rest of his beer, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and surveyed the landscape. He had to get his head back in the game, he wasn't here to dwell on what might have been, he was here to get ahead. Dean could be charming when the mood took him, a skill he intended to use to his advantage tonight. This could mean more bookings for him. The people before him engaging in light-hearted conversation could open up doors for him.

With his dimples on full blast, he began to schmooze his way through the room, picking up several business cards that he stuffed into his back pocket.

"Dean, tell us, what was it like doing a scene with Roman?" A dark-haired guy wearing technicoloured pants asked. He had a husky voice and wiggled his hips without warning every now and then. He went by Ding-Dong, or something.

"It was pretty good," Dean answered, trying to speak positively about the experience in spite of the bitter taste that the experience had left in his mouth…no pun intended. He had no intention of burning any bridges in the industry. "Roman's a complete professional."

And it was true. He was. He had picked up on Dean's misgivings about the tender scene that had been planned, and reconstructed it to better suit Dean's preferences. That had been professional. He had ensured that Dean was relatively okay after the scene ended, and then gone to take care of his other duties. Nothing but professionalism.

…It was just a shame that Dean obviously hadn't lived up to Roman's expectations when handpicking him for a co-star credit. Why else would he refuse to perform a full sex scene?

"What was it like, taking all of that cock? He's huge," Ding-Dong pushed.

"We, uh, it wasn't a full-on scene, just a blow and tug kinda deal," Dean shrugged, feeling oddly embarrassed to admit their lack of action. It wasn't like he could bro-up and exaggerate – their time together would soon be available for the entire world to jack off to.

"Oh…"

What wasn't said hung heavy in the air.

They thought he was a dud.

Roman Reigns had standards.

Dean Ambrose did not meet those standards.

He felt so stupid, standing there with a mould of Roman's dick in a bag, thinking that he belonged in the big leagues. Maybe he was meant to be a big fish in a small pond. He had been stupid to think that he could make the transition from hardcore, small-time porn to the bright lights and hefty paydays of this world.

Dean was on the brink of excusing himself and making a hasty exit, when the man himself appeared in the centre of the room, tapping a glass. The room instantly fell silent, every pair of eyes looking longingly at him.

"I want to thank you all for coming tonight." His voice slid like velvet over the senses, reassuring and arousing all at the same time. "It's been a great year for the company, revenues are increasing month on month, and we're branching out into newer genres, catering for a wider audience than ever before. On behalf of the company, I want to congratulate you all for your work, and let you know that we're doing something really special here. We're helping the world come together." Laughter rippled throughout the room as Roman winked. "A big part of that is the exciting new talent that we're introducing to our members. Speaking of which, I want to introduce you to a hot new signing. Dean Ambrose? Get your butt up here."

Roman peered out into the crowd, searching for the unruly honey coloured curls.

"He's right here!" Ding-Dong shoved an unwilling Dean forward, almost causing him to fall.

Dean threw a filthy look back at the traitor, fixing his leather jacket in place before looking up to meet Roman's eyes.

Roman smiled warmly, pulling him close and casually draping an arm over Dean's shoulder, showing him off to the crowd. "I give you Dean Ambrose, my latest scene partner."

Enthusiastic applause greeted the announcement, several attendees openly ogling the couple before them, imagining the kinky possibilities that such a sexually appealing partnership could reap.

"This pretty boy is going to be a huge star," Roman predicted with certainty. "Just keep watching, he's going to blow you all away…but I just had to call first dibs." More laughter erupted. "Let's raise a glass to our continued success!" The party-goers followed the lead of their host, raising their glasses and bottles, clinking with abandon.

Roman offered his own glass to Dean, still grinning. "Cheers to you, Dean Ambrose. I meant what I said, you're going straight to the top, I can just feel it."

"Uh, thanks," Dean responded, quickly tapping Roman's glass with his bottle. "Good scene today. Thanks for having me."

He regretted his choice of words immediately, clenching his fist to prevent himself from face-palming.

Roman watched him for a second, apparent understanding in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off.

"Nice freebies too," he blabbered, indicating the bag. "Got your dick."

Roman's eyebrows shot up, a smile twisting his full lips.

"The dildo! The, uh, one you're handing out in swag bags tonight."

This was so unlike him. He didn't get flustered. Why was he suddenly unnerved by Roman's very presence? His inability to keep his cool was probably confirming Roman's decision not to bang him.

"Yeah, I caught that. I would have remembered if you got my dick," Roman smiled, sipping his drink.

"I bet," Dean mumbled, the bitterness from earlier returning. "I didn't get your dick, don't worry."

Roman's brow creased. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," Dean replied, finishing the last of his beer. "I gotta take a wiz, see you around, Roman. Thanks again for the swag."

Roman frowned. What had just happened there? Dean had been beautifully mellow and reveling in his post-orgasm glow when he had left him earlier. Hadn't he enjoyed the scene as much as Roman had?

Another man of Roman's standing could have let it slide and moved on, but not him. He prided himself on taking care of his scene partners. Outsiders thought that pornstars were disposable, mere commodities. He recognised them as human beings with needs, regardless of the roles that they inhabited for the gratification of others.

Roman's intention was to follow Dean, get him to talk, and resolve whatever issues had apparently developed in the intervening hours since they finished shooting. However, he still had duties to attend to as host and face of the company. Hands clamoured at him as he tried to move beyond the crowd, drawing him into conversation and proposed deals. Regrettably, business had to come first.

* * *

Dean took the steps two at a time, wondering how many bathrooms this place had as he opened a door to his left. Nope, not a bathroom. Rather than being jealous of Roman's home and the nice worldly goods that he had acquired, he felt inspired. He could have this, or his own version of it, if he worked his butt off. He had the work ethic, and despite what Roman fucking Reigns thought, he knew he had the appeal too. Fuck that dude.

Dean continued down the hallway, opening a few more doors without success, until he reached the last door. It swung open to reveal a sight that had Dean's jaw dropping.

"Hey, there."

A dark-haired man with large brown eyes and a heavily muscled body lay on the black silk sheets, legs spread wide, casually stroking his hard dick.

"Care to join me…?"


	6. Chapter 6

Yes.

 _Fuck yes_.

Dean _very_ much cared to join him.

But.

Despite being a porn star, he was still caught a little off-guard when finding a hot guy jacking off casually in somebody else's house.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to muster some composure. "Uh, hey."

"You're Dean Ambrose," came the response, a statement rather than a question, and one that was accompanied by heated approval in the raspy voice of the other man.

"I am," Dean nodded. "Who are you?"

The man rolled his eyes, an expression of mock-disbelief on his handsome features. "You really don't know? I'm Seth freakin' Rollins, that's who."

Dean obviously looked mystified, as Seth continued. "My family owns an entertainment empire, one branch of which is this company. We cater for all audiences, including people who just want to watch others get fucked. You like to watch, Dean…?"

"I prefer to get fucked, to be honest," Dean shrugged, slowly starting to feel more comfortable after the initial shock. "So, do you live here, or do you make it a habit to masturbate in other people's homes?"

Seth cackled loudly, his hand still gripping his cock. "Roman's my boy, he's fine with it. I was feeling a little pent-up and wanted to take care of it. It's not healthy to walk around with blue balls, I could lose my eyesight or something."

"Riiiiiight," Dean drawled, taking his own opportunity to roll his eyes.

"I bet you don't have that problem," Seth commented, while shamelessly eyeballing Dean's physique. "I've seen your videos, and I gotta say, I'm a big fan. You have one of the best cumshots in the business."

Dean smiled sweetly, his dimples popping. "Thanks. I don't think anybody's ever complimented me on that before, I appreciate it."

"Don't just stand there, come on in, get comfortable." Seth shifted over on the bed to make room for him. "How do you feel about showing me the real live experience of that cumshot? You interested?"

Dean ambled over, perching himself on the edge of the mattress, taking a good long look at Seth's dick. He was a smoking hot guy, with abs and biceps that would undoubtedly feel fucking great. But Seth's most appealing feature was the fact that he blatantly _wanted_ Dean. That had been something he had expected from his scene partner earlier that day, but had been sorely lacking. If Roman didn't want him, that was fine, because there were plenty of other dudes who _did_ – Seth being a particularly appealing option. He could definitely work with that dick, they could both get what they wanted.

"I'm down with that," Dean said, prompting Seth to lean toward him, their mouths getting closer and closer-

"Dean? You in here?"

Both men on the bed froze, startled by the interruption.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and found Roman standing on the threshold, an otherwise blank expression on his face, while his eyes assessed the scene in front of him.

"Hey Rome," Seth called, waving. "You looking for this guy? Guess you found him. Isn't he cute?"

Roman nodded curtly. "Dean, you got a second?"

Dean looked back at Seth, his eyes trailing down to that still hard dick. He really wanted to feel wanted…but, this was Roman's house and he was a big deal in this industry. It wouldn't make sense to disrespect him while Dean's career in the big leagues was still in its infancy.

"Sure. It was nice meeting you, Seth."

"You too, Dean. I'll be sure to find you again."

Dean stood and threw a casual little salute at the naked man, before walking over to Roman and following him out of the room and down the hall into another one.

Roman stepped aside to let him pass, turning and gently closing the door behind them. He blew out a tight breath and placed his hands on hips, before facing Dean.

"Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm great." Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders rising in defensiveness. "I filmed my debut for the company today, and then got to attend your party. I'm swell."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. Never been better."

"Then why are you acting like a cornered animal?" Roman wondered, taking a couple steps closer.

"Because I like my personal space," Dean pushed out the words, refusing to cede any ground.

"How do you like Seth?" Roman's eyes were zeroed in on his face, never once looking away.

"He seems like a nice guy," Dean answered honestly. "I mean, what's not to like? Seems like he knows how to have a good time. I dig that."

"He does," Roman agreed. "But I do too."

"That's nice," Dean said, glancing off to the side.

"Can you please look at me?" Roman was now right in front of him, less than an arms-length away.

Begrudgingly, Dean complied with the request. Grey eyes were watching him, concerned and hinting at a few questions.

"Thank you for being my scene partner today," Roman said. "I had a great time, and am honoured to have been your first partner in the company."

Dean frowned, " _You're_ thanking _me_? I'm the lucky one here. You're the biggest star in the industry, you gave me an in that would have taken me at least a couple more months to snag. I'm the grateful one. Thanks for giving an unbelievable opportunity to a kid from Cincinnati who never expected it."

Roman smiled, his face relaxing instantly. "I guess we're both appreciative of what happened today. What did you think of it? Honestly?"

Internally, Dean cringed at the question. If he spoke the truth, he'd sound like a whiny little kid. He had already spent a chunk of this evening stuck in his head, overthinking every little thing and becoming bitter because of it. He couldn't continue to be _that_ guy because, in truth, Dean was never usually that guy.

"I had fun," Dean said, trying to keep his tone light. "No health and safety concerns, and I got to come. What's not to like?"

Roman's smile faded slightly at that. "…I'm glad you enjoyed it. I did too. So...what are you gonna do for the rest of your time in San Fran?"

With that bullet dodged, Dean relaxed a little. "Maybe hang out with Seth, he could show me the sights before I fly out tomorrow."

" _No_."

"Excuse me?"

"What's really going on with you? I've tried to be patient and find out, but you're bullshitting me. I want to know the truth, and you're going to tell me. "

Dean's earlier anger flared up again. "What the fuck is your deal? You don't get to demand _anything_ from me. We did a scene together, that's it. Big deal. I don't owe you shit. You didn't even fuck me!"

If he had been thinking rationally, he wouldn't have said any of that. What happened to not burning any bridges? Had he just dumped his prospective career down the john with that little outburst?

Roman blinked slowly, his mouth open in surprise. He certainly hadn't been expecting _that_ reaction. "Is that what this is about? You wanted me to fuck you?"

"Wh-what? No, of course not." Dean abruptly turned to look out the window, suddenly very interested in the minutiae of the suburban street outside. He felt Roman come up behind him and rest a large hand on his shoulder. The next words were whispered in his ear.

"You wanted me to fuck you - is that the truth?"

His pride told him to lie, but he had already exposed himself so much already – what was the point?

A simple nod conveyed the message.

A hard chest pressed up against his back, thick arms winding around his waist.

"I wanted to fuck you like you wouldn't believe."

Dean snorted, "I don't need pity, Roman."

"And you're not getting it. I wanted to fuck you _so badly_. Do you have any idea how hot you were during our scene? Giving me everything I asked for, but being yourself while you did it? That shit is exactly what I like, what I want."

"If you like what I'm throwing down so much, then why _didn't_ you fuck me…?" Dean turned his head as he said it, searching Roman's face, needing to know if he was being played for a chump.

"I didn't want the first time to be on film. Saying this out loud makes me sound cheesy as shit, but I wanted it to be just for us. Taking our time, only thinking about each other. I've been watching you for a very long time Dean, I didn't want to do a throwaway scene with you. I wanted every moan and sound and expression you made to be just for me."

Dean's stomach flipped. He didn't know how to respond to that. He had assumed that Roman wasn't really interested, and had used his influence at the company to rearrange the scene to suit himself.

"…did I fuck it up?" Roman's voice, as deep and beautiful as it was, sounded small and uncertain.

"Well, yeah," Dean admitted, resting his palms on the window ledge. "I thought you didn't want me, that you regretted your decision. And then gave me a consolation prize – a mould of your dick."

Roman buried his face in Dean's neck, shaking his head. "When you put it like that, I sound like a giant asshole. Fuck. I always thought I was self-aware, but apparently not."

"You're the biggest star around, I don't think that leaves a lot of time to be self-aware."

"Don't, you're being too kind to me," Roman said, lifting his head. "I was a jerk, I should have explained myself. I was in a trance after that scene, I'm so into you that I lost the run of myself, making stupid assumptions that you were thinking along the same lines."

It was time to man up. Dean spun around in Roman's arms, deciding to finally be direct and speak his truth.

"I was all kinds of messed up after the scene. It was an overwhelming day – I finally get my big break, then I meet you, _then_ I'm told I'll be doing some touchy feely shit and after all that, the hottest guy I've ever met didn't want me. That can really mess with a guy's self-image."

"I'm an idiot," Roman agreed. "But I'm being so damn honest here – I want you, Dean Ambrose. It would be my pleasure to get to fuck you, in any way you want. I know you aren't too comfortable with the gentler stuff…"

Dean nodded affirmatively. His anger had melted away. How could he be mad when the man standing in front of him was making himself so vulnerable – all for the sake of making Dean feel better? A guy of Roman's stature didn't have to do it, but he had spoken up and explained himself. It meant a lot to Dean.

"You still wanna fuck…?"

"Absolutely," Roman replied, his answer resolute.

"Good," Dean smiled, placing his palms on Roman's pecs. "But we're gonna do it my way."

* * *

Last chapter coming up next! I've never finished a story on here, this is momentous ;-)

Please review!


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